As we shook hands, I caught her expression. Eyes downcast, she said, “Nice to meet you.”
“Ruth has come with an admission,” Shawn said. “That mama cat and her litter you helped me with? She left them at my door.”
Ruth’s cheeks flushed. “And I am so sorry, but I knew something was wrong with that mother cat. The way my business is going, I couldn’t afford to take her to the vet, and I’d heard about Shawn, and I am so sorry, but I thought I was-”
“It’s okay.” Shawn rested a hand on her shoulder. “The mama and litter are being cared for. Tell Jillian about the other problem.”
Ruth took a deep breath, and her exhale was shaky. “Other cats have been coming to my barn. A new one arrived this morning, and by her swollen teats, I can tell she’s just given birth. What am I going to do with all these cats? And where are her kittens?”
Shawn shook his head, looking frustrated. “I can’t go check this out right now, and I refuse to call that useless animal control officer.”
The one who has the restraining order against you? I said to myself. Shawn thought the officer was lazy and uncaring, which had resulted in a shoving match last year and subsequent legal action.
“What do you need me to do?” I asked.
“You’re good with cats,” Shawn said. “From what Ruth has explained, they don’t sound feral.”
Shawn had explained to me more than once that all ferals are strays, but not all strays are feral. I looked at her. “They come up to you, then?”
“One of them does, and I can tell the others want to, but they’re skittish,” Ruth said.
Shawn said, “Could you assess the situation, Jillian? Tell me what we’re dealing with? I can start networking with other no-kill shelters to take on these cats if need be, but that will take some time. I got my hands full here or I’d go myself. Someone has to feed those newborns, and a man called to say he’s bringing me a dog he found.”
“Okay. Assess the cats how?” I said.
“Take a cat count, see what, if any, health problems are obvious. Fleas, ticks, abscessed teeth, wounds from catfights. I’ll load up your van with food from my donation box. Ruth here has come on hard times, like so many small farmers.”
I turned to Ruth. “You’re a farmer?”
“I own several acres. I do small stuff,” she answered. “Tomatoes, okra, corn, beans, peaches and berries. I have a stand in the summer, canned fruits and veggies in the winter. But the Whole Foods in Greenville doesn’t buy as much corn or okra from me as they used to, and money’s tight. Either feed what tuna I’ve got to the cats or feed it to me. Right now we’re sharing, and the supply is running short.” Her eyes glistened, and she blinked hard to fight back tears. “This is so embarrassing.”
I took both her hands in mine and squeezed. “I understand. My grandfather was a farmer, and he knew hard times, too. Let’s get this problem taken care of right now.”
She said, “That mama cat… her kittens. I feel so awful about what I did, and-”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “You brought her to the right place.” I turned to Shawn. “Now, where’s that cat food?”
Minutes later Shawn had loaded two twenty-pound bags of dry cat food in the back of my minivan and then went to his storage shed for a couple of crates and a pair of leather gloves, in case any of the cats needed transport for medical care. Meanwhile, I showed Ruth my cat cam. Only Merlot was in the living area, his long, red fur shimmery as he crouched in a patch of sun on the living room floor. He was swishing his tail. What was he stalking now? More spiders?
“He’s so big,” Ruth said with wide eyes. “And so pretty.”
“And strong. My ninja warrior. This cat saved my life-in fact, all three of mine have done that in more ways than one. But that’s a story for another day. I’ll follow you.”
Soon I was trailing her pickup, taking the same route Candace and I had used to reach the West place, but we turned off before we reached Robin’s land and went through a gate and over a cattle grate. We then traveled a good distance on the narrow road. Hearty green kudzu invaded every foot of fence along the way.
She parked her vehicle near a tiny house with a screened porch, the porch probably equal to the square footage of the house. I parked behind her. On the porch I saw a bookcase lined with canning jars-jars filled with peaches and green beans. Maybe I could buy some to take home with me later. Her barn, painted a gorgeous rusty red, was in much better shape than Robin’s.
A calico cat peeked from behind the side of that barn, and when I slipped out of the van and knelt down, she came toward me but stopped short. Ruth came up alongside me, and I asked, “This is the one that just delivered?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “She’s still hungry, is my guess.”
“Let’s fix that,” I said.
After Ruth fetched a large plastic bowl from the porch, I said, “Do you have a paper plate? Plastic bowls can give cats little ulcers and abscesses in their mouths.”
“Oh, I didn’t know,” she said. “Is glass okay?”
“Yup. Cats have smart immune systems. They react to toxins quicker than humans, but glass is fine.”
Soon we’d filled several large Pyrex pans with dry food, set them about halfway between the house and the barn and then retreated to the porch to watch how many cats would come for supper. Since their sense of smell is so acute, I figured it wouldn’t take long. A minute later, four cats were chowing down-the calico, two tabbies and a sleek black cat that tried to push aside the other three without success. They were all too hungry to tolerate top-cat shenanigans.
Ruth, her arms wrapped around her, said, “Those are the only ones I’ve seen-unless there are more tiger cats and I can’t tell one from the other.”
“Have you been able to pet them?” I said.
“The calico and the black one. Blackie seemed healthy, has a beautiful coat. Very friendly.”
“Let me see if I can get closer,” I said.
I stepped out through the screen door and down three steps. I moved toward the cats, and this did not go unnoticed. The black one was the first to respond to my outstretched hand and quiet calls.
He was soon rubbing against me, and with a little gentle probing I learned that he was a neutered male and that he loved to have his head scratched. The mackerel tabbies took note that their friend or leader was getting attention they might like as well. Soon they came over, too-these cats had obviously been around people-and I discovered they were a boy and a girl. One had horrible ear mites, and they all had fleas, but from what I could tell, they seemed otherwise healthy.
Mother Calico had at first continued to eat but by now was finished and sat grooming herself. Would she take off to find her litter? I guessed yes, and sure enough she started to wander off, but not without a backward look. She almost seemed to be beckoning me. That raised a flag immediately. New mothers like to hide their litters, and yet I was certain she wanted me to follow her.
I patted the black cat’s head one last time. “These three are probably not going anywhere now that they know you’ll feed them,” I said. “I’ll follow Miss Calico. My bet is she hasn’t traveled far in search of food.”
“Thank you, Jillian. These cats deserve better than what I can give them right now.”
“They wouldn’t have found you if they didn’t think you were the right person to help them. It isn’t all about the food, you know.”
I took off, but following the calico proved far more difficult than I’d imagined. It wasn’t that she disappeared. No, she kept meowing, and her mostly white coat offered little camouflage in the verdant landscape. Yup, she wanted me to follow, but the terrain wasn’t exactly friendly. Brambles and bugs and blackberry vines with prickly stems attacked me along the way. My shins below my capris looked as if I’d shaved my legs for the very first time when we finally reached a barbed-wire fence. Our journey had taken about twenty minutes.